Teal Rebellion
by iMusicalMinji
Summary: It would be funny if you could simply say that this love was tearing you apart but that feels like it is from a totally different tune.


Time on the meteor is slow and boring if you are being honest with yourself. You have made it a habit of trying to kill the intense irony gimmick to be more of yourself and less of what you want to be, because what is the point in trying to force the inevitable? You will reach your goal soon enough and you can now accept that. Your girlfriend, or matesprit, or whatever she is to you, is not as patient as you are. This comes as no surprise, she doesn't have the benefit of a successful future self coming back every time you feel the rush of panic that you are a worthless failure to tell you that, hey settle down man you are doing fine holy shit stop freaking out.

She's not perfect. Not even a little. That is fine by you though because you don't know if you could handle being around someone who made you feel like you were lesser, like someone who couldn't compete when you needed to. She makes you feel like an equal, like you matter, like you can do anything with her and not be judged. You suppose is like a literal form of situational irony because you figured that due to her law and order or CSI complex that she would be the biggest judge, she would never stop thinking and concluding things about you before you could make the proper impression.

But maybe she has already made her final verdict.

When you both draw together, sometimes she will scribble over your section of the floor. The only time this bothered you was the first time. You were trying to be sappy for _ironic_ purposes and she colored over it in red, declared it wasn't tasty enough in teal and black and you barked out a complaint, called her dumb and scribbled in more black. She inhaled deeply and frowned, her determination never deterred from ruining your portrait of her and you stopped with a heavy huff. She never apologized for it but now when she scribbles over your doodles, you feel a sense of beauty in it. Like your drawings of her or anything else wouldn't be complete without the crooked off center line or misplaced deformed blob.

You won't say you feel completely safe around her. You are fully aware of what she had done to John and Vriska, even if one was to save the lives of many. You understand she has the potential to be lethal and would not hesitate to prove her power to get what she needed. Not what she wanted; you knew she wasn't that vain and petty.

On most days, she holds the meteor together. Though most instances she is only pretending to be the officer or legislature or whatever she thinks she is, it is still nice to see people obeying most of her rules. Like the one which prevents unsupervised parties from entering or altering Can Town, or the one about not turning the heat or cooling up or down too drastically to save Gamzee some pain and discomfort. She is trying to instill a new rule about staying away from stairs when intoxicated thanks to Rose's episode.

Despite being the enforcer, the law, she has her moments of frustration. You tend to make it worse when you comfort her because she tells you that you are not meant to act like her moirail. You don't really understand that too much, but you don't really care. You still do it even if it frustrates her more. When her tears are dried and her nose is blown, you love her all the same as before the incident of acting pale.

It's strange to admit you love her like you do. You never really understood why people acted as they did when they were in a relationship, but you do a little more now. You want her to be happy. Always.

The first time you saw one of her deceased alternative selves; you may or may not have cried. She looked the same, she smiled and waved and she talked to you for hours without you noticing the difference. It was when you leaned in for a smooch when she backed away in a confused gasp and her glasses had slipped enough for you to see that shocking and beautiful ruby red that you adored so much had gone ghastly white. You tried to remain as cautious as possible in the bubbles now, not wanting to repeat that heart wrenching mistake.

No matter the iteration of her, everyone in the bubbles knows who she is and what she stands for. It was a mystery to you at first, but you suppose it is due to thousands of different doomed timelines from her session and they have all mingled and gone their separate ways. It still upsets you a tad to think of thousands of different versions of her wondering around endlessly without any memory of your relationship, or even the smallest off shoots that have happened even after your relationship that she resents you for. You have yet to meet an alteration of her that hates you. For that, you are a little glad.

She was always something special to you, her passions and interest have leaked into your everyday speech and behavior. Never before had you known or even been remotely interested in the legal affairs of others or the smell of some colors, but you can't help but want her to tell you if only for her to continue speaking to you, continue tolerating you. You have yet to actually get bored with something she wanted to share with you, even before your more sincere attempts at being true to your heart and all that other sentimental bullshit.

You would be condemned a liar if you would say that she didn't know about how much she has you wrapped around her finger, but there is no point in lying to her because she can see right through you. Not literally of course, but as the hero of Mind, she has this way about her. She would cackle or even a rare normal giggle would escape her knife drawer of a mouth when you would try to feign disinterest or claim you would "just" dating, nothing more.

She told you once, if everyone made it back to the new universe, that she wanted to control the legal systems there. It was pretty cliché when you thought about it, you sometimes would joke that she didn't have any other interests then to be a crazy crack snorting lawyer. She didn't understand what was so bad about her career goal, and you couldn't find one serious answer to give her. She wants to ensure that everyone is treated right, treated equally without biased prejudice, treated as if each and every one of their lives matter just as much as the next person. You can't give her the hope she needs to manifest these dreams into reality, but you can support her for this just cause.

You tend to fall asleep in Can Town with her and the mayor, but on some occasions she will doze off before you. She would smile or frown or inhale deeply and snore. It makes you wonder what she is doing on the bubble she had spawned into, and it makes you feel a little lonely when you know you would end up in a different one. You once feel a little sad that she wasn't able to dream traditional dreams anymore, because it feels like an entire focal point of her stories and interests have been uprooted away from her. As you lay awake and watch her sleeping form, you think about what she would dream of without this twisted reality, what her nightmares would be like and how sweet it might have been to nurse those terrors away and hold her gently in your arms.

She had gotten sick once, and you didn't know what to do with her. Her nose was stuffed and she whined all day and night about her throat being sore and itchy. Coughing and wheezing sounded throughout the meteor and it made your gut wrench painfully each time you heard it. You didn't run away though, you stayed by her side. Without her nose, she depended on licking more to see around her. Kanaya is the one to suggest that she would stop doing that until she recovered so not to infect everyone else. You were her guide for the week she suffered through her cold, you walked her into things on accident and you tripped over her cane. You sang to her and she smiled, told you it was her favorite song, and you could sing it again and again.

It bothers you to know that she has been spiraling down into some fog of depression that you cannot pull her out of. You could not guide her any longer; you could not shine metaphorically like Rose or literally like Kanaya. You could stop or rewind time, but that wouldn't do anything but stall it. You don't understand how to help her, she won't tell you either. You secretly never wanted to know because it might break you if you are the problem. When she sits for hours and just sighs, you sing her favorite song.

She would smile full of sorrow in your direction, breathing heavily to see you clearly. She interrupted you, asked you what she thought of the two of you. You didn't think anything differently; told her you loved her. You choked back something that would relate to being together forever because you couldn't promise that. She shrugged and you copied her, it makes her laugh as you continue your singing, starting the song over again. She leans against you; she sings along.

She is yours, broken and together. She is righteous and kind; a soothsayer of thoughts and dreams, endless with possibilities.

This love is killing you because against it, you are a loser.

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Author's note: This is also on archive of our own and tumblr! Look up Minji's fanfiction archive ( .com) to submit any sort of fan work to this story.


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